Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Lately, you are quick to be defensive and negative. I hate that for you, though I recognize why you fall into such pattern. Your big brother is often extremely negative. He is supposed to be your role model. On top of that, you are seven at the same time as your mother is turning thirty and struggling to launch a writing career while homeschooling your brother and supporting your Daddy in his last year of seminary. In other words, life is tough right now.
You are not a negative person. I know this. I see your huge heart in your teary eyes whenever you feel hurt. You are sensitive and, usually, very kind. The notes teachers send home speak of your creativity and your enthusiasm for learning. I love that, David. If you love to learn, you'll never stop growing, searching, expanding. If you love to learn, the whole world is handed to you on a platter. Life is your buffet; serve yourself.
Right now, you probably feel left out a lot. You go to public school while your brother stays home with me. Your dad and I have discussed bringing you home as well. I have prayed over it a lot. You are blossoming in the public school environment though. You come home excited everyday. You talk about your friends and what you are learning. You are such a social creature, and though I could make a bigger effort to keep you in social situations despite no classroom full of 15 kids, I don't see the point in fixing what isn't broken. You love school and school loves you, so I leave you where you are for now. I promise, schooling decisions are not things we take lightly. You are where you are because we love you and feel it is best for you.
I know you miss your sister. You are still too little to grasp the hugeness of that situation. You pray for her, and I feel the heaviness in your little boy heart. I wish I could carry that for you, but I cannot. The missing of Savannah is yours to hold. The ache to have her around is something you will carry into manhood. It will affect how you treat others and how you handle separation from those you love. In short, the hurts of childhood shape the person in adulthood, so I have to let you feel those hurts. If I carry them all for you, how will you ever learn to walk without holding my hand.
I hope, one day, you will come home to visit. With you will be a young wife and a new baby. I will hold that little bundle and coo and say, "Son, he looks just like you." Your wife will say, "Tell me about David when he was little," and I will tell her so many stories. I'll tell her how you once told a teacher that you couldn't quit talking because your mouth just had "so much information." I will tell her about your first tee ball game and how you rode on a float in the Christmas parade in Tupelo and once put a twenty dollar bill in the offering plate at church because the air conditioner was broken and you wanted to help them fix it. I will overflow with stories that show you to be...
you... exactly the you God intends you to be.